


Lost My Mind (Finneas)

by fvckingavengers



Series: Lover of Mine [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Masturbation, Song fic, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, assassin reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingavengers/pseuds/fvckingavengers
Summary: Am I in your head half as often as you’re on my mind?If I don’t make sense, please, forgive me, I can’t sleep at nightAt least, not alone, not anymoreNot since I found what I never went lookin’ forAnd now you’re in my headI must have lost my mind
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Lover of Mine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779610
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Lost My Mind (Finneas)

It’s just one of those nights.

You know, one of _those_ kind of nights. When you know something is off but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is. Everything is seemingly fine, but deep down you know shit is about to hit the fan.

That’s what Bucky’s experiencing.

He sits at a round table at Delmonico’s steak house, mindlessly toying the the corner of the freshly pressed white table cloth. Steve to his left, Natasha to his right, Sam directly across from him. They’re all dressed nice. Celebrating after a long, hard mission. The others fall into a fit of laughter, but he’s mentally withdrawn from the conversation.

Steve gives his friend a once over and taps on Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

It was a simple question with a loaded answer.

One that Bucky didn’t necessarily want to get into at the moment. Especially since Steve finally stopped looking at him like wounded puppy since his return from Wakanda.

Bucky slaps a smile on his face - albeit forced, but it still seems to please the blonde. “Yeah. Just tired.” He lies, taking a big swig of his lager. “Gonna sleep real good tonight.”

**Bullshit.**

He craves the sweet, temporary relief of slumber. 

But alas, he lies awake with the bright light of the tv igniting the otherwise dark room. Its past midnight and Bucky’s restless mind won’t let him sleep. He flips through a thousand channels until he settles on the twelve o’clock news with a heavy sigh. Holds the remote control to his pursed lips as he listens to the forecast for the next seven days.

The male anchor’s droning voice starts to lull him, his eyelids growing heavier with each second.

“Does New York have a new threat on its hands? Reports are flooding in of a female antagonist terrorizing the streets. We don’t have an official statement, but she’s been given the name ‘Viper’.”

The name chills him to the core. His stomach drops and his hands begin to sweat. 

“It can’t be.” Bucky’s eyes widen and he scrambles for the fallen remote lost in his bedsheets. He holds his thumb down on the volume button and crawls to the foot of the bed.

“She’s being accused of various crimes, those including arson, robbery, and murder. Let’s hope this serpent gets thrown into a cage before she causes anymore harm to our city.”

The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs and his mouth goes dry.

Memories come in waves, crashing vividly, making his skull ache. He lays down and runs his flesh hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling and blindly pressing numbers on the controller to change the station.

“It’s not possible.” He shakes his head. “She’s dead. You died.”

He doesn’t sleep well that night. Too consumed by thoughts, flashbacks of his time with Hydra. And the one they called Viper.

~ ~

_It’s cold._

_The kind of cold that burns your flesh and freezes your bones. Unforgiving. Bitter._

_Bucky sits with his hands in his lap on a wooden bench against the concrete wall. He picks at a hangnail on his thumb, patiently waiting for instructions from his handler._

_He was brought to the cage. At least, that’s what he thought it was. Glass walls and black metal bars constructed in a large rectangle shape. It was where he came to train. To prove that he’s still capable of fighting. Of killing. Old, dried blood stains the cement floor. It’s faded. An attempt was made to clean it. He tries not to think that he’s the one who made the mess, but images in the back of his mind prove otherwise._

_His hair is still damp from his shower. It hangs in his eyes and he watches beads of water fall from the ends and cascade down his bicep. He blinks, and suddenly he’s no longer in the cage. He’s in the back of a car. Leather seats stick under his clammy hands. The radio fades in and out softly. There’s a skinny blonde boy sitting to his right, chasing raindrops on the window with his finger._

_The door slams shut, shaking the soldier from his daydream. His breathing quickens as he eyes the man walking towards him. His heart pounds in his hollow chest._

_Pierce, he remembers is his name._

_“Soldier.” He says, making Bucky sit up a little straighter. “As you know, you’re an incredible asset to us. You’ve saved the world more times than we can count.” He takes a seat beside Bucky, keeping a comfortable distance. “We need you to do it again.”_

_Bucky sighs heavily through his nose. His jaw clenched and lips pursed into a thin line._

_“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Pierce continues. “Resting since your last mission. You’ve been out of practice and we need to get you back into shape.” He looks to the guard standing by the door. “Send her in.”_

_The door opens and Bucky furrows his brow. A women enters the room with a man, clearly her handler, behind her._

_Her expression remains stoic as she looks between Pierce and himself. To say she looks intimidating is an understatement. Strong jawed. Broad shoulders that are the peak of her muscular arms. She holds her head high and Bucky notices that even Pierce can’t stare at her for too long before he cowers slightly under her gaze._

_“This is Viper.” Pierce announces, gesturing to the woman. “The newest member of Hydra. She’s an asset, much like yourself. For your next mission, she will accompany you.”_

_He’s never worked with someone else. For as long as he can remember (which isn’t saying too much) he’s always worked in solitude._

_“I want to see how the two of you operate with one another before I send you out into the field.”_

_There it was. The catch._

_Bucky knew this wasn’t just an introduction._

_The corner of Pierce’s mouth twitches into a brief smirk. “Fight.”_

_And just like that, there’s tension in the air. It’s palpable. Thick. But it’s not directed from one asset to the other. It’s between both the Soldier and yourself, pointed at Pierce._

_“Three rounds. Simple goal: knock your opponent to the ground.” He explains. “The only rule is for you;” Pierce points at Bucky before turning towards you, hooking a finger under your chin. “Don’t mess up her pretty face.”_

_He moves to step out of the cage, to watch on from outside the glass walls. He doesn’t see that you rolled your eyes at his remark, but Bucky does, and he has to fight back a grin. Even though the action went unnoticed, it was still a bold move in his book._

_Neither of you want to do this. Be pawns in Pierce’s sick little game that he more than likely gets off on. But you get into position, and the Soldier follows in suit._

_Thirty minutes go by and Bucky lands on his ass with a grunt for the second and final time. Best two out of three, that’s what Pierce wanted, and he was content with the result. He’d only got the lead on you during the second round, relying on brute force and charging at you like a bull, shouldering you in the gut and pushing you down._

_You were quick on your feet. Agile and swift. You move silently and gracefully on your toes like a ballerina but pack a punch with the force of a bullet. He understands why you were picked to be the second asset. You’re the complete opposite of him._

_Bucky heaves for breath and he hears you do the same as you approach him. His brows knit together when he looks up at you and your arm is extended to help him up. He ignores the gesture, pushing himself off the ground and dusting off the back of his pants._

_“Good girl.” Pierce congratulates._

_Your breath hitches in your throat from the praise you receive. Bucky picks up on it, but you remain seemingly detached as you exit the cage and are escorted by your handler out of the room._

_~ ~_

Bucky gasps and his eyes shoot open. They sting when he blinks, trying to adjust to the blackness. The tv must have shut off at some point. Which means, he must have fallen asleep. But sleep and rest are not one and the same. He feels more worn out than before he passed out.

He blindly fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and winces when the bight screen lights up.

4:19 AM.

“Fuck me.” He groans, wiping a hand down his face and tossing the device back where he found it. He stays laying there for a minute until he feels a cool dampness on his back. He sits up and turns on the lamp, sighing when he sees that he sweat through his shirt and sheets. “Gross.” He grumbles, tugging his shirt over his head from the back collar.

He strips the sheets and leaves them in a pile on the floor to deal with at a more reasonable hour before stepping into his bathroom and turning on the cold water in the shower. The chill of the water on his burning skin calms him. He tilts his head under the spray and closes his eyes.

~ ~

_His first mission with you went off without a hitch._

_It was foreign - having a “partner”. Having another person occupy the space of the living quarters they put him up in. He walked on eggshells around you, meanwhile you were strutting around without a care. When he was sitting in the common room, reading over a case file, trying to either morph or blend into the armchair he sat in to go unseen, you waltzed in wearing a pair of red panties and a white cotton t-shirt._

_“Do you wanna go over the plan for tomorrow?” You ask, words muffled from the spoonful of ice cream you shoveled into your mouth._

_He doesn’t answer. Just looks up briefly from the papers in his lap, blushes softly, and resumes reading._

_He’s timid. A wrench has been thrown, knocking his “routine” out of wack. He’s unsure. Is this a test? He finds it best to keep to himself. And he’s thankful that you don’t push him._

_By the end of the job, he deems that you’re okay. But it takes the course of two more assignments before he starts to peek his head out from his shell._

_This makes the fourth time you work with him. Time is only a concept to him, he doesn’t know how much of it has passed between the last time he’s seen you. When you both return to the facility after completing a job, you go your separate ways. He works solo missions, and he only assumes that you do the same._

_He hasn’t been stuck back inside the icebox since he can’t remember when. He doesn’t like to think about it, but he’s aware that they haven’t brought him to the dungeon in quite some time. The place where he’s forced into the chair. Shackled and gagged with a mouthguard to keep him from cracking his teeth or biting through the meat of his tongue from the sheer gut wrenching pain that comes along with sitting in that seat._

_You’re a mystery to him._

_He wonders what your story is. How you got tangled up in Hydra’s web. He can’t find it in him to believe that you stepped into this life willingly. Not when he watches you when you’re not looking. Your features are soft and you seem smaller than your stature._

_Glasgow, Scotland. 1967._

_It’s early summer. Warm and breezy, clear skies._

_Bucky rubs his tired eyes and runs his hands over his hair in attempt to tame his bedhead. The floor creeks under his weight and you look up from your newspaper._

_“Morning.” You smile and it nearly knocks the wind out of him._

_You sit at a small round table in front of the open French doors. Sunlight filters in, warming the carpet where it shines. White curtains billow in the breeze. You wear a silk robe, and as far as he can tell, that’s all that covers your body._

_“Want some breakfast?” Your voice breaks his shameless stare. He nods and takes the open seat across from you._

_The food is scattered across the tabletop, but you take it upon yourself to make a small plate of scrambled eggs and fresh fruit. “Thank you.” Bucky intends to say softly, but his unused voice sounds gruff._

_“He speaks.” You gasp. “I was starting to think you were a mute.”_

_Bucky huffs and shakes his head. “Just careful with my words and who I say them to.”_

_He feels your eyes on him and he spares a glance though his lashes as he goes to take a bite of food. “Smart.” Your smirk makes the corner of his mouth curl upward. “What’s your name?”_

_The question catches him off guard. It’s one that he should be able to answer without thinking. But he remains silent, gulping down the food in his mouth._

_It hits you like a ton of bricks. He doesn’t know his name. Only the one the handlers and Pierce refer to him by. You lower your gaze and rub the back of your neck, clearing your throat. “Right. Guess it won’t be long until I’m in the same boat you are.” You declare, predicting the inevitable. “Someone ought to know my name while I can still remember it. I’m,”_

_You tell him your name and his pupils dilate. An intimate detail. He watches you closely as you sip form your coffee cup._

_“So,” He tilts his head to the side. “Why do they call you “Viper”?”_

_You huff and roll your eyes. “ ‘Look like the beautiful flower, but be the serpent under it.’ ” You shake your head and trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertip. “Pierce’s words, not mine. Although, I’m pretty sure he stole it from Shakespeare.”_

_“Are you as lethal as they say you are?” Bucky’s sleepy, husky voice makes the inquisition sound harsher than he intended._

_There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and Bucky notices a twinkle in your eye as you lick over your lips and lean forward on the table. “Are you?”_

_Bucky leans back in his chair and covers his smirk with his mug. “More so.”_

_“Good.” You nod, mirroring his position. “Then I’ve got the right person watching my back.”_

_~_

_Bucky grunts as he tries to move into a more comfortable position on the dirt covered ground. He lays on his stomach, held up by his elbows, watching the target through the scope of his rifle and listening intently to the sounds coming from his ear piece._

_It’s cold on the hilltop. 10 pm and the sun has long left this side of the earth. He licks over his chapped lips and sighs, ready to get back to the apartment, if nothing else for the warmth. He thinks of lighting a fire in the living room and curling up on the couch with a book. Hardcover and sandpaper pages. Tales of cowboys in the Wild West._

_You appear in his mind. Freshly showered, dressed in your robe from this morning. A glass of bandy in each hand and you join him on the sofa._

_He has to shake his head to rid his mind of the idea._

_“Do you have eyes on Ferguson?” He murmurs, hand tightening around the grip of his gun, finger ready on the trigger._

_Richard Ferguson. A millionaire mogul sitting on a thrown of dirty money and stolen artifacts that kept him on top as the richest man in the country. This was strictly an intel mission. Grab the files and get out without a trace. Bucky was only to intervene if you became compromised._

_“In a few minutes I’ll have more than my eyes on him.”_

_Bucky inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw clenching at the thought. “Guess I can understand why you were better suited for this particular job.” He grits through his teeth._

_“I don’t think you’d have the same effect in this dress.” You mutter behind your champagne glass. Bucky sees you at the bar, leaning against the counter as you peer through the gala guests for your target. The dress you’re referring to hugs your chest, but flows freely until it meets the floor. Soft pink. It doesn’t seem like your style, but he thinks you look beautiful nonetheless. “You could always prove me wrong, though. After a few drinks, I could be talked out of it if you wanna try to woo me.”_

_He sees your smirk and he chuckles. It feels strange, but nice. He can’t remember the last time he laughed. “Maybe in your dreams.”_

_“Soldat,” She hums, sending shivers down Bucky’s spine that he tries to blame on the chill of the wind. “If you knew what went on in my dreams, you’d blush.”_

_He’s thankful you can’t see him now as his cheeks darken in color. He regains his focus when Ferguson approaches you. He uses some horrid pickup line and you bat your eyelashes, agreeing to follow him upstairs. Bucky can no longer see you clearly; only shadows and silhouettes. Sounds are muffled through your intercom. He can hear forced giggles and fake moans that make his blood pressure spike._

_Then, breaking glass. Struggled groans and labored breath. His brows crease in the middle and he squints in attempt to better his visual of you to no avail._

_“Viper.” He calls quietly. No answer. Thirty seconds go by before he tries again. “Viper?” Silence. He swallows thickly and curses under his breath. A dozen scenarios flash in his brain and he starts to panic. “Viper, say something, goddammit. Are you okay? Do you need backup?”_

_Bucky gets up from the ground, slinging the strap of his pistol over his shoulder and gearing up to infiltrate Ferguson’s mansion. Crunching gravel sounds from behind him and blinding headlights burn his retinas. The passenger window rolls down and you flash him a beaming smile._

_“Get in.”_

_~ ~_

> **You’re the scars on my skin, you’re the past I don’t wanna erase  
>  You’re the words on my lips that have left but I still seem to taste  
> Maybe I’m just too tired to keep lyin’  
> Maybe you’re all I ever wanted**

Your voice rings in his ears and he whimpers softly, stabilizing himself on the shower wall with his left arm while the other is wrapped around his cock.

He hasn’t done this in a long while. Hasn’t gotten himself off, hasn’t thought of you, let alone gotten himself off from the thought of you. But it seems to be the only thing to calm the fire burning in the back of his skull.

His eyes shut tight and he groans lowly, aiming for the drain as he shoots his load. White ribbons follow the streams of water down, disappearing past the silver outlet.

Bucky gasps and his chest heaves as he blinks slowly, coming back down from the clouds. He shuts the water off and sighs, towel drying his hair before tying it around his waist. He flops down on the bed and closes his eyes. He should be able to get at least three more hours of sleep now.


End file.
